


It will all make sense in the morning

by flambydelrabies



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Linear Narrative, background zelloyd if you squint, death imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flambydelrabies/pseuds/flambydelrabies
Summary: Mithos visits Genis in Flanoir; perhaps Genis’ heart is no more than a cemetery.[Secret Santa for MistralSoul]
Relationships: Genis Sage/Mithos Yggdrasill
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	It will all make sense in the morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistralSoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistralSoul/gifts).



> This fic is for a Secret Santa exchange in one of my Tales Discord servers for the lovely mistralsoul - not only was I thrilled about the opportunity to write some canon-compliant Genis/Mithos, but this fic is extra special because Reo, who this was written for, was my first reviewer on my first fic when I started posting stuff here, and his constant support and encouragement is a big reason why I kept at it. Thanks for being a bud, and hope you enjoy!

Genis felt another nail plunge into his proverbial coffin.

Ironic, considering his distaste for metaphors. He was an academic, through and through, and he always figured if one were to say something they might as well just be literal about it and say exactly what they mean. No use being flowery and poetic about it, he thought, because if you say it right everyone’s going to know what you’re talking about anyways.

Sometimes, though, much to his great displeasure, he found himself thinking in ever-dramatic similes and analogies, and those were the times he knew he was too far gone. Here he was, thinking about nails and coffins and those goddamn metaphors again, because at least that stopped him from thinking about anything else. He could live with a little awkward, transient poetry if it gave him something to focus on beyond his own unsavory thoughts.

Unfortunately, as he tossed himself from a seated, upright position to splay himself onto his back, even focusing on _ that _ wasn’t working.

The night before had boxed him in the same way he was boxed into this tiny room in Flanoir’s inn with nowhere to hide from reality’s anemic embrace, cold and heartless as the snow that suffocated the sky. Mithos’ voice still hung heavy over him, dancing over Genis’ shallow grave against his will until that familiar voice twisted into Yggdrasill’s, hollow and unrecognizable from that of his kind, half-elven friend. 

Those were the moments he chose to immerse himself in those damned metaphors instead.

Genis huffed out a sigh and rolled to his side, facing the window to watch as snowflakes obscured the sky white. Something in his chest resonated with the blizzard outside, desolate and frost-bitten while the rest of him only burned. He didn’t know where things went wrong because they hadn’t been right in so long, and he didn’t know what exactly was making him feel so uncomfortable, because it could be so many things.

All he could say for certain is that tomorrow, he will climb the Tower of Salvation to the heavens and stand against his former friend for the first and the last time, and that is when the final nail will pierce through his casket and trap him for the rest of time.

-

After they’d returned from Welgaia the day prior, Genis had divorced his body and mind, doing little more than sleepwalk through familiar motions with a secret carried in his throat.

Returning to Altessa’s with the mana fragment in hand felt more like arriving at a mortuary than it did anything else. Everyone had grown weak-kneed and weary before giving into exhaustion and collapsing against whatever stable surface they could find; even Zelos’ quips weren’t unwelcome to the rest of the party and their solemn faces. Nobody chose to fight with him, instead half-listening and smiling beaten-down grins when his words met their ears.

As Genis twisted his head around the room, tension strong in his slender frame, he knew everyone felt just as dead as they looked and he was just another corpse among the rest. He glanced over at Mithos, knowing the ugly, contorted truth proven only by the panpipe in his pocket, and yet, the reality of what he  _ knew _ felt too enormous to be real.

“Mithos, we’re friends, right?” he asked, voice wavering, heart lurching. Something subtle changed in Mithos’ face, until his pupils became so glassy, Genis could nearly see his own reflection within them.

Then, he composed himself once more.

“Of course we’re friends, Genis,” Mithos spoke back, and Genis noticed Mithos’ eyes would no longer meet his own. “I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“W-wait!” Genis reached out a hand to grasp at nothing, and it wasn’t until he caught his friends staring in stupor that he realized he’d shouted. Mithos stopped and glanced over his shoulder wordlessly.

“Mithos, uh…” Genis’ eyes bore upon the boy’s profile, illuminated by the evening sunset, and he felt the blood drain from his body when he realized the look in his eyes truly was identical to that of Yggdrasill. He shook the thought from his mind, but the blood did not return.

“Is there something you need, Genis?” Mithos asked, quiet enough that it was as if a ghost had slipped from his lungs. Everyone was watching now, and that simplified nothing.

Genis’ eyes held a gaze as serious as he could muster; if he were to find out the truth, he wanted to hear it from Mithos rather than end up another casualty. 

“Do you mind if I walk with you? I mean, just the two of us.”

For a second, he couldn’t register the emotion that spread through Mithos’ near-lifeless expression, but he knew it had to lie somewhere between shock and guilt. Genis was smart for his age and he  _ knew _ that-- too observant for his own good, really, and certainly moreso than any of his companions would ever give him credit for. He’d noticed the way Colette would grimace in pain even before they learned of her disease. He’d noticed how his sister’s hands trembled even while she cooed the words ‘ _ everything will be fine’ _ in his ear. He’d noticed the way Zelos dodged questions and snuck out at night, and that no-one else seemed to give these subtle things any thought. He’d noticed how Zelos looked at Lloyd and the way Lloyd looked back, and when he thought of how little he trusted Zelos to do the right thing he only felt ill.

Genis always noticed the little things, and when Mithos turned around, he noticed an expression painted on his face he’d yet to see Mithos don before-- one so subtle, surely, none other than him would have seen it.

Remorse.

“Sure. We can take a walk together,” Mithos answered, and Genis was certain that the other boy could see straight through him. They both knew how the thread unfurled from here, that there was no going back to what they had, and yet, even in spite of this, Mithos beckoned him closer, and Genis obliged.

The door shut and a rush of cool air swept against their faces-- enough of a surge that Genis could’ve sworn he’d had a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He couldn’t complain; he needed the chill to get him through what was to come next. And still, he hesitated.

“Mithos. You know what I’m about to say, right?”

Mithos shut his eyes before Genis’ gaze could draw him back in. He looked serene like that, face neutral with a curtain of pale hair framing his face. They stayed there for a moment, unspeaking, before Mithos turned back to Genis and tugged his eyes open once more.

“I do, yes.”

“They why--” Genis stopped the thought in its tracks, only to fumble in his pocket for the panpipe and extend it between trembling hands. Each word felt like lead on his tongue and tasted of rust. “This… this is yours. Isn’t it?”

Steadily, Mithos reached out a hand to rest the tips of his fingers against Genis’ open palm. His mouth remained a single, flat line. “It is mine. Please, you can keep it.” 

“I-- I don’t want it.” Genis shook his head, silver hair flitting across his burning face. “I want to know why you lied to me, why you made so many people suffer.”

The way Mithos looked back at him made his heart sink into his stomach, grimacing in guilt with eyes that paled in the sunset so beautifully, until his hand faltered and the panpipe clattered against the ground.

And Mithos _ looked _ guilty, but Genis didn’t  _ want _ him to-- he wanted to be told that it was all wrong, that this was some big joke and that for once his all-knowing intuition had made the biggest mistake of its time, because Mithos couldn’t be Yggdrasill, and Mithos was  _ not _ Yggdrasill. Yggdrasill didn’t help him cure his sister, didn’t sit with him on sleepless nights and count the stars. Yggdrasill didn’t understand the intricacies of his experiences that no-one else could. Yggdrasill didn’t have that smile that lit his heart ablaze. 

Now, when he looked down at his own quivering body, he felt so unlike himself-- meek, in a way he had never been before, and that same heart only scorched him from the inside out.

“Mithos… Please. Just tell me it’s not true. That you’re my friend. That you’re not… him,” Genis scraped the words from his throat until his voice broke and his pride wouldn’t let him continue. He gazed up at Mithos with wet eyes and cheeks that burned pink as the sunset. Mithos’ brows turned upwards and his expression crumbled to excruciating sorrow; looking at him hurt.

“I’m sorry, Genis. I can’t tell you the things you want to hear.” He stepped forward, and Genis stopped himself from stepping back. He’d hold his ground, just this once, and he continued until the moment Mithos stood across from him, nose-to-nose, and they could feel each other’s breath against their lips. They existed like that for a moment, together, before Mithos stretched out his hands, pulling Genis into a warm embrace, twisting around the other half-elf until secured tightly in his arms.

Genis reached and grabbed at Mithos’ coat to pull him tighter, pressing his head against Mithos’ shoulder until his shirt became damp with tears. He couldn’t have told you when, exactly, he’d started crying, and he didn’t know if the tears were from Mithos’ deceit or the fact that this one, single tender moment could never exist again. All he could be certain of was that he didn’t want it to stop.

The moment Genis opened his mouth to speak, he only sobbed until he choked.

“I’m sorry, Genis. I’m so, so sorry.” Mithos’ voice was scarcely above a whisper, quieter than even the heartbeat that rang painfully loud in Genis’ ears. Every apology felt foreign and cruel.

Genis couldn’t take it; there were so many words he wanted to scream, so many thoughts chasing circles through his head but each one of them caught in his throat and shredded itself to ribbons before they could even leave his mouth. His mouth then opened, uselessly, until he mustered one word.

“Why?”

Mithos planted his lips gently against Genis’ forehead before pulling away, using two fingers to brush the silver bangs from his jaded eyes before squaring that hand against his shoulder. 

“It will all make sense in the morning, Genis,” he said with a shuddering breath and a half-hearted grin. “You’ll see, soon.”

In that moment, Genis looked upon Mithos’ face, and even though he wore a soft, passing smile, he looked just as dead as the rest of his friends sitting in the confines of Altessa’s walls. The spot he’d carved for Mithos in the pit of his chest felt more like a tomb than it did anything else.

Genis loved people who destroyed everything, even themselves, and he loved those people to the point of devastation. Perhaps, after all was said and done, his heart was no more than a cemetery.

-

It had all been hours ago, but Genis could’ve sworn it’d been days. Each second staggered along the heels of the last, somnambulating through Kratos’ reveal and Mithos spitting out the words Genis knew to be true long before they were spoken. Now, here he was, holed up in Flanoir’s inn alone with his own thoughts, doing little more than musing over the falling snow.

Colette, Zelos, and Lloyd were each resting in their own rooms down the hall, so it wasn’t as if there was no-one to sit by his side and warm his spirits. He’d considered knocking on Lloyd’s door and inviting him on a late-night walk through the twilight storm, but abandoned the idea upon hearing Zelos’ boisterous voice calling down the hall and the signature clomp of Lloyd’s boots trailing behind. At that point, Genis figured he’d rather just be alone, because he hated it when people treated him like a breakable child and stumbled around him on brittle eggshells more than he hated the torment of his own mind. It was  _ sad, _ really.

He rose, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed until his boots hit the floor with a  _ thump. _ The blizzard had cleared enough that he could see the city streets again, barren and white, save for a single flash of red.

Lloyd was chasing Zelos toward the church, reaching out his crimson-clad glove until Zelos grasped it within his own. Genis felt another lurch in his chest, and that was when he looked away. He chose not to entertain the idea of what they were doing together, of Lloyd inevitably getting hurt. Genis thought It was bad enough that he was, himself.

Before long, he found the remnants of colour among the snow replaced by glittering iridescence, and his eyes widened to the size of his clenched fists. Magic, he thought-- it  _ had _ to be, until he reached the tips of his fingers to rest on the frostbitten windowpane only to see a familiar hand mirroring his back.

It wasn’t magic. It was  _ wings, _ and when he looked up, a pair of jade eyes stared back that he’d memorized like the mana coursing through his body.

“Mithos?” Genis mouthed, and his voice strained to stay hushed even when he knew no-one could hear. He unclenched his other fist and brought it to the window, reflecting the posture on the other side of his body. Mithos did the same.

“Will you let me in?” he said back, so far away even though the only thing separating them was a sheet of glass. The logical,  _ rational _ part of Genis’ brain screamed at him to run-- the part of him that  _ hated _ metaphors and denied the feelings that rended his own heart, shrieking that Mithos was their greatest enemy and a monster in his own right. And still, Genis’ longing rejected such notions the same way his logic and reason rejected every feeling he had.

Genis paused and stepped backwards, stumbling over his own two feet before drawing his brows together in deliberation. He could easily shut the curtains and kill any chance of reconciliation between them along with it, but what good would playing pretend do him, anyways? When all was said and done, it would end the same no matter what. But he may never have this opportunity again, and the pull and tug on the winding tendrils of his heartstrings were ultimately what made up his mind for him.

A click and turn resonated throughout the room. He’d opened the window, and Mithos’ near-ethereal body drifted through the open frame.

“Why did you come here?” Genis asked, and even he couldn’t place the emotion in his voice. He stopped, then continued, even if only to break the silence. “I-- There’s going to be a lot of trouble if anyone finds out you’re here, you know. For me, and probably for you, too.”

“I know,” the other boy answered, courteous enough to shut the latch behind him to stop snow from tumbling to the floor. “I wanted to see you one last time before tomorrow. Just one night where things don’t have to change yet.”

Bewildered, Genis shook his head. “It’s too late for that. We can’t go back to what we had. Not after the things you said to me at Altessa’s. Not now that I know who you are.”

Mithos stepped closer. This time, Genis stepped back.

“Tonight, we’re not enemies, Genis,” Mithos said, and Genis could see the sorrow in the curve of his lips. “Is there anything you want to say to me?” 

“I don’t know.” Genis stepped backwards again, brushing the tiny snowflakes from his shoulders before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His reply was the truth, and he was as honest as he’d ever be. This time, Genis was the one who wouldn’t meet the other’s eye.

“Is it alright if I join you?” It was an empty, hollow sort of a question, and one that Genis chose not to answer. After a moment standing in silence, Mithos retracted his wings and took a seat next to Genis of his own volition.

“What are you staring at, Genis?” Mithos asked, cocking his head to the right and watching the boy at his side stare into the winter abyss. His gaze could easily permeate through the window’s glass paneling, maybe even Flanoir’s snow and ice.

“Zelos went to see Lloyd tonight,” Genis replied matter-of-factly. “He’s been doing that a lot lately.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

Genis reached both arms behind him and bunched the blanket between his hands. “Yeah. I’m not.”

Mithos smirked. “You must have figured it out by now, then.”

“What? That he’s an ass, and that he’s going to hurt my best friend?” Genis all but snorted. He never trusted Zelos. Never even gave him the courtesy of pretending to. “Yeah. He’s working for someone, probably even  _ multiple _ people. I’m surprised nobody else figured it out by now.”

Mithos’ reply was breezy, as if speaking about the weather. “You’re the smartest of your friends. It’s a shame that they don’t appreciate your intellect for what it is.”

“Lloyd is smart, too. Just… in different ways than I am.” A quick pause, enough to see Lloyd and Zelos walking through the snow hand-in-hand-- a blaze of red burning against the backdrop of the snow. “But he’s too trusting. And I guess I was too.”

“I see. So, you want me to leave, then?” Mithos asked, and his voice became vacant once more. Genis couldn’t tell whether the other boy was angry, but he could certainly tell he’d struck a nerve. “All you have to say is a few, simple words, and I’ll leave, and then that’ll be it.”

Genis’ mouth opened before he could stop it, and everything else came out involuntarily. “No. Please, I don’t want you to go, Mithos.”

For a moment, he regretted those words, wanted to swallow them back down whole even if it’d make him choke and sputter. But he didn’t, and after the gravity of what he said crashed down on him he couldn’t stop himself from giving in. He leaned over and wrapped his frail arms around Mithos, pressing his head into the other’s shoulder just as he did the day before.

“I… don’t hate you. I just don’t understand why you do the things that you do.”

Mithos embraced him back, and his touch was so gentle that no-one else could possibly have believed it came from the claws of a monster. “Do you remember what I told you the other day, Genis?”

Genis’ hands began to quake, holding the other half-elf between his arms as if he’d never let go. Maybe he wouldn’t. He then shook his head, still buried in the nape of Mithos’ neck; the blonde lifted a hand to run his fingers through Genis’ hair, spun like silk and shining silver against the sky. Even Mithos couldn’t deny the beauty in it all.

“I told you that it would make sense tomorrow. That was true then, and it’s even more so now.”

“I don’t understand,” Genis lifted his head enough to peek his half-lidded eyes over Mithos’ shoulder. It was all going blurry from exhaustion and the threat of tears. “All I know is that I don’t want you to leave. When you leave, we’re going to be enemies-- when I wake up, you’ll be gone.”

Then Mithos frowned and shut his eyes, even if Genis couldn’t see it-- perhaps it was better that way. “I’ll be here, just for tonight. I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I can do.”

“Don’t leave, Mithos,” Genis whispered, collapsing from his arms to the empty space on the bed next to them. He’d been awake far too long now, and keeping his eyes open felt like a losing battle against gravity. “Don’t leave.”

Pleading was useless and they both knew it, for the moment the sun rose Genis would wake up alone with nothing left to cling to but his own memories. For now, with his head resting gently in Mithos’ lap and the comfort of a hand threading through his hair, maybe everything could be alright, just for one night alone-- a siren’s song calling him back to a home he’d long since forgotten.

Genis’ breath turned to an airy rumble, vibrating throughout his entire body the moment he drifted to sleep, ever serene even knowing their bodies were never to touch again. “Genis?” Mithos cooed, his voice equally as frightened as it was soothing. He received no response in return, save for the heaving of Genis’ chest and the feeling of the other boy’s hand going limp against his own. Tame as a beast in repose, he unlatched their fingers from one another until Genis held nothing but empty space between his arms.

His eyes darted downwards, and the sight of Genis curled around him so peacefully broke the heart Mithos didn’t realize he still had. He knew, then, that this was it, that this was how their story ended, and he could only hope that this was enough of a memory to make him understand.

Mithos rose, tucking Genis beneath the blankets while he rested so delicately, and he prayed to a Goddess he knew not to be real that the boy would not wake the moment he drew his wings and took to the skies.

“I’m sorry,” he said one, final time, his shrouded face showing white lies that Genis would never have been able to see. His wings heaved in a gleam until they were gone in a flash.

When he left, Mithos found his body quaking with tremors more gentle than he thought he could ever be capable of. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the world around him; reality was ugly, and so was he. The tears were of no importance. He’d drawn the final nail in his own coffin long ago.

-

Loving Mithos was the easy part. He felt the graze of Mithos’ hand against his, the feeling of eyes half-open and lips brushing against lips. They were in a field of flowers, the same tender blooms of white they’d retrieved to cure Raine’s disease, and the sky painted amethyst. The feeling of petals and pollen tickled the side of his face like an angel’s feathers, and he smiled at Mithos just to see him smile back. His body lay dead still.

“Let’s stay here forever,” Genis whispered with a hare’s breath. Mithos’ eyes brightened before he wound them shut.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Life was hard and cruel and sometimes everything hurt so badly he thought he’d die. But loving Mithos was easy, perhaps the easiest thing he’d ever had to do.

-

Genis woke with the feeling of iron piercing his chest, shattering his glass heart until he couldn’t dream of picking up the pieces. He couldn’t believe how his body felt empty and so very full of lead at the same time, weighing him down until trapped completely, and Goddess, how he hated those damned metaphors, but they were the only things that made it all make sense right then and there. More than that, he found himself alone again, only to wonder if the night before had happened at all.

He rolled to his side, shielding his eyes from the sun searing through the frost, only to notice an iridescence slipping through the cracks of his fingers before removing his hand and letting the sunrise burn his eyes. Mithos had left a single feather resting upon the pillow inches from his face, tinted with rainbow hues that glistened in the light. It was real, he thought. It was all real.

He felt a splitting pang in his chest, only to realize what Mithos was saying the night before was painfully true. Here he was, left with no more than his own recollections of something that was never to be, surrounded by painful memories of its existence that torment even at a passing thought, the feeling of hollow weight throughout his entire body and wanting to cry and scream until he felt nothing. 

The pain of wanting something that was never to be again, and the things he’d do to try and fill that sinking void in vain. That was Mithos’ reason why.

Genis lifted himself from bed, pulling off the covers to stare into the rising sun, and he felt the final nail pierce his coffin, because he understood.


End file.
